


Juice Problems

by helens78



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Silly Arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is maybe the silliest argument Sam and Steve have ever had, so no wonder they distract each other with sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juice Problems

Life was getting back to normal-- if there was really such a thing as 'normal' when you were two guys whose day jobs involved saving the world on a regular basis. No more SHIELD, which wasn't a bad thing. Their search for Bucky Barnes had ended about as well as it could, with Bucky out from under Hydra's heel and seeking therapy for his years of trauma, memory loss, abuse... God, you name it, the guy had gone through it. Sam had held any number of hands for people who'd been to war and back, but what Bucky needed was a team full of specialists. Fortunately for everybody, Steve knew people who knew people who knew people, and Bucky was in Manhattan, being taken care of by the best.

Sam knew what that meant for him and Steve before Steve even had to ask. By the time Steve got himself into Speech Mode to say it, Sam cut him off and said, "Stark said we can stay at the tower until we find a place of our own."

Stark had actually said a lot of things, including _Might as well just move in, it's a hell of a lot easier to get the band back together at a moment's notice if we're all in the same building,_ but Sam had a feeling that a high-rise in Midtown wasn't really Steve's speed. Not permanently, anyway.

But after their morning jog (ten miles for Sam, forty for Steve, with an 'on your left' thrown in here and there for good measure), Sam headed straight for the fridge in their Avengers Tower apartment, and Steve paused for a second, then opened up a cabinet and plunked a glass down on the counter.

"You want something?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. He pulled the orange juice out of the fridge, twisted the cap off, and took a swig.

"You could use a glass," Steve said, hands on his hips-- the man wasn't even sweating. Honestly.

"I could pour _you_ a glass," Sam offered, holding out the bottle. "Want some?"

Steve squinched up his nose and shook his head. "I'll pass, thanks."

"You worried about my cooties now?" Sam laughed and closed the juice back up, setting it back in the fridge. "Pretty sure I got my cooties all over you last night, and you weren't complaining then." Steve might not have worked up a sweat, but Sam had. He backed Steve up against the kitchen table, and Steve went with it, letting the back of his thighs hit the edge, reaching out to pull Sam close.

"I'm not worried about your cooties," Steve murmured.

"Mm-hm, so what's with getting me a glass?"

"It's nothing, I--"

"Worried about germs? Am I gonna contaminate the juice?" Sam leaned in and brushed his lips against Steve's. "I haven't contaminated you yet."

"Your orange juice is terrible anyway," Steve mumbled, and stole the other half of that kiss, giving Sam what he'd been waiting for all morning. It was a long enough kiss to get Sam totally distracted from the topic of orange juice, and by the time he started tugging Steve's workout shirt off, by the time he had Steve pressed flat on his back on that table, he was long past thinking about much of anything at all.

*

"Wait a minute."

Post-shower, it finally came back to Sam. Steve was over by the bathroom counter, putting on deodorant; Sam was still standing in the shower, drying off. He frowned, waiting to catch Steve's eye in the mirror.

Finally, Steve looked up. "Wait for what?"

"My orange juice is _terrible_? Since when?"

Steve laughed and dug through the bathroom drawer, coming away with a comb. "It is! I don't know why you bother. Unless it's because you like the bottle itself. You gotta admit, it is kind of..." Steve shrugged, wiggled his eyebrows at Sam. Sam snorted and threw his towel over Steve's head.

"Only if your idea of phallic involves a gallon-sized base, which let me tell you, mine doesn't." Steve had gotten himself untangled from Sam's towel and was folding it into thirds, hanging it neatly over the shower rod. Sam rolled his eyes. "You don't have to clean up after me, man. For one thing, Stark's got a cleaning service..."

"Which we shouldn't get too used to. We're not going to be here forever."

"True. But I can fold my own towels."

"Like you can pour your own glass of juice?"

Sam threw his hands up. "Fine! God. If it means so much to Captain America, symbol of American pride and liberty--"

"Screw you--"

"--then I will pour my juice _into a glass_ before I drink it. Honestly." Sam laughed. "I get a 'screw you' when I call you Cap now?"

Steve turned around and stalked forward a step, leaning in to put his mouth on Sam's shoulder. He gave Sam a sharp little nip, just enough to make Sam yelp.

"Only when you add on the stuff about pride and liberty. I'm not a symbol when I'm at home with you."

"Fair enough." Sam wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and squeezed. "I kinda liked it, you want to know the truth. You saying 'screw you'. I could hear some more of that."

"Why do I get the feeling you mean a different kind of screwing..."

Sam laughed. "Okay, you got me. But I tell you what-- before we get to that--"

"Yeah?" Steve was starting to get distracted, which did no small amount of good things to Sam's ego. Steve dipped his head down again, kissing the spot on Sam's shoulder that he'd bitten earlier. This time, no biting-- it was just one kiss after another, soft and slow.

"What's this about my orange juice?"

"I'll make you some later," Steve promised, turning Sam around so it was his ass against the counter. He gave Sam a little lift-- it was still a rush every time Sam _felt_ the strength in those hands and those arms, when Steve proved he could lift Sam and put him anywhere he wanted-- and set Sam on the counter, ignoring Sam's hiss when his ass hit the cold granite surface. It wasn't like Sam actually had any complaints, and fewer still when Steve started sliding down to the floor.

"Make me," Sam murmured, reaching down to thread his fingers into Steve's hair.

"Pretty sure I don't have to make you," Steve said, kissing up the inside of Sam's thigh.

"Orange juice," Sam said, but right, what, why the hell was he going on about this?

Steve tipped his head up and smirked. "You want me to stop what I'm doing and go get some fresh oranges?"

"No! _No_ , no, no, no..." Sam paused. "That's what's better, huh? The old-fashioned way?"

"Not every time." Steve laughed and slid his hands down the outside of Sam's thighs. "But sometimes."

"How about you show me the old-fashioned way of doing something else," Sam suggested, settling back on the counter, letting his legs fall apart even wider.

"It's pretty much the same way you do things now," Steve said, but after a minute, Sam was too busy saying Steve's name to care whether he was getting the old-fashioned edition or the modern variety. Steve was the best of both worlds.


End file.
